Theater Review by Ron Fassler . . . .
Paging a play doctor. The Jerusalem Syndrome needs some tender loving care—STAT!
A company of some very talented actors are doing their best to breathe life into a new musical comedy at the York Theatre titled The Jerusalem Syndrome, a show that takes its name from an actual medical condition reported in a 1999 New York Times article, though its roots go back as far as 1937. It’s a phenomenon that involves tourists who arrive in the Holy Land “overwhelmed by the religious magnetism of the city, which is sacred to Christians, Jews and Muslims,” according to the Times. Entering into an acute psychotic state, certain people convince themselves they are prophets or specific characters in the Bible. Mainly inflicting Protestant Christians and Jews, primarily from the United States and Europe, a sudden surge of religiosity can turn their worlds upside down. Most often it’s temporary, with nothing really funny about it.
Writers Lawrence Holzman and Felicia Needleman, along with composer Kyle Rosen, have based their musical on the notion that the setting and role-playing are fertile ground for would-be hilarious antics. Perhaps that sounded good on paper at some point, but judging from the production at the York, they’ve overshot their mark. Directed in a broad style by Don Stephenson that often teeters on just plain stupid, it feels as if the creators have lost track of what their original impulse might have been. If people are to suddenly forget who they are and believe they are Biblical characters, then wouldn’t that inspire some sort of profound awakening inside them? Instead, in the execution here, it’s all cheap jokes concerning kvetching tourists, gay spas, lusting after soap stars and other such nonsense. If there had been some deeper digging with higher goals in mind, it might have produced a more interesting two hours of theater.
One character thinks they are God, but it’s done solely for laughs. There is barely a whiff of introspection at the idea of being suddenly blessed with that kind of responsibility or power. The person who thinks they are Jesus is given a moment or two of such reflection, though it all remains wafer thin. The person who believes they are Moses is reduced to bits about parting the Red Sea, and John the Baptist sprinkles water on everyone from a bedpan he carries with him through much of the play. The authors seemingly have little aspirations to rise above anything more than standard joke-making. It’s a pity because in crafting a musical from this material they have wasted the most interesting aspect of the Jerusalem Syndrome.
As already mentioned, the actors are not to be faulted (though one who will remain nameless has been encouraged to go so over the top that I was afraid, with all the scenery being chewed, that gnawing on cast members would be next). Veterans like Farah Alvin, John Jellison and Lenny Wolpe—with close to three dozen Broadway credits between them—bring their consummate professionalism to the proceedings, with Alvin’s vocals, in particular, a saving grace. Jeffrey Schecter is given little to do, but when he is allowed to let loose his charm and energy are a welcome respite from some of the tedium. And Chandler Sinks, in his professional debut, has a nimble physicality and a wonderful singing voice that he deploys with style. Also of note is James D. Gish, recently Fabrizio in the Encores! staging of The Light in the Piazza, who is given one song that shows off a startlingly fine range; and Josh Lamon knows how to time his lines to get the most that he can from his underwritten part as a doctor in charge of patient treatment at a Jerusalem hospital.
Production values at the York are always clever in their minimalism, which is the case here, and the band sounds great under the musical direction of Miles Plant. Alex Sanchez also contributes some spirited choreography.
A lot of hard work has gone into this attempt to make The Jerusalem Syndrome a worthy musical. But any life beyond this production will require a rethink and some prayer.
The Jerusalem Syndrome. Through December 31 at the Theatre at Saint Jeans (150 East 76th Street, between Third Avenue and Lexington). www.yorktheatre.org
Photos: Carol Rosegg
Cover photo caption: Dana Costello, Chandler Sinks and Company
